


What Falls, is Fallen

by Somuchbraver



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice Spoilers, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Post-Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6828076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somuchbraver/pseuds/Somuchbraver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grief seems to be my thing so a post-BvS fic seemed appropriate. This will spoil the ending of Batman v Superman if the tags haven't already done that. It picks up right afterward and covers the next two months or so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Falls, is Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write this before Snyder has his say.

When they planted him like a seed in the ground, it was in observance of ritual, it was a human coping mechanism- they didn't expect him to sprout. So much had been asked of his body, and what it needed most was a chance to recover- an opportunity to grow. The sun's radioactive glow soaked through the earth, through the unfinished wood of the farmer's son's coffin and into his body, feeding it while it got to work.

Across the country, Lois Lane got to work too. Perry had been generous with her and granted her two weeks bereavement leave despite the fact that she wasn't entitled to it. Clark hadn't been her husband. He'd wanted to be, though, and somehow that hurt just as much as the realization had touched her. They had a future that had been stolen from them, something she knew would have been beautiful if they’d had the chance to build it.

She’d spent her leave on the farm, trying to look after Martha while Martha tried to look after her. The more each woman tried to care for the other the more frustrated they became until the first Friday when Martha had finally stomped a foot and ripped a basket of wet laundry out of Lois' arms. "Lois. Sit. Down," she'd scolded, the Kansas ease shattering in a moment. Lois had met the older woman's eyes and just said, "I can't," softly, and they'd both trembled until the inevitable happened and Martha wrapped her strong thin arms around her son's fiancé and pulled her in. Decades more practiced at loss, her eyes filled with tears even as a smile broke her face. She rubbed Lois’ back and chuckled softly. "Well, now you know we're family, don't you? I've gone and made you cry," Martha said, and Lois laughed wetly.

Neither of them had felt the need to be so noble after that, so when Lois left on the 13th day it was with the feeling that she'd received more healing than she'd even intended to give. Across town in the Smallville cemetery, thousands of Kryptonian cells were still hard at work repairing a different broken heart.

Lois knew that Clark's life had been partially devoted to making sense of his father's death, but for her there was no work left to do in that regard. The monument in the center of town spoke for itself, and Metropolis had moved swiftly, with no small help from her own investigation or the story that came from it, to make sure every last person responsible for the tragedy was dead or in jail. Everyone around her had made their sense, made their peace, and buried Superman. She'd even heard that a few prison guards had let the Batman in past several layers of security in hopes that he would give Lex Luthor the brand. She'd been pleased to hear he didn't. All that was just and right, but it left her with no work to do for Clark. She'd once promised not to tell his story, and that promise held, even though he was gone.

So she went back to work for Metropolis, for truth, though she felt like a cracked vase. Clark became the voice in her head. _"But Lois,_ (‘Lois’ when he was trying to convince her) _what if this guy you're hounding was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?"_

_"Lois, is this about the story, or the people involved?"_

_"Lo, you're doing fine. Just keep breathing."_

"Just keep breathing," she'd exhale, softly. "All you have to do is breathe... and then everything else." And she did everything, she chased stories, she scooped coworkers and rivals, she sometimes cried over broken toner cartridges, she sometimes cried through dinner alone, or forgot dinner entirely, but she kept breathing.

Two months since the day, 4 days, and approximately 20 hours, she stormed into her apartment, dropping everything in her hands on the wood floor. "I'm through," she told herself, "the next person that looks at me like a lost little deer in the goddamn woods is getting sucker punched!" Did she look sick, did she look frail? Did a woman need to be heartsick in order to shout down a junior reporter at the conference table? And why the hell did Perry let her carry on like that? The silence was crushing, the patience was unreasonable. She ripped off her vest and yanked the clip out of her hair, pausing mid tantrum to notice that the door she had definitely closed behind her was hanging open again.

"Hey, Lo," came a soft deep voice from over her shoulder, the voice in her head. When she turned he was standing there, his eyes lit with their tenderest brand of joy, a small uncertain smile curving the corner of his mouth. His t-shirt was only partially tucked into a very old pair of jeans, as if he hadn't decided how to wear it or he had dressed in hurry.

Lois' bottom lip quivered and she was vaguely aware of her legs ceasing to exist below the knees. Clark read her face and his own melted into remorse. His smile slipped when she took a couple unsteady steps backward, though her body language never closed, he still assumed the worst. “-I couldn't just- call,” he said, which was ridiculous in the first place, Clark never called, he would just want to see her and then he would be where she was. Sometimes that meant rocketing across the planet and sometimes that meant floating down the block, the distance seemed the same. Lois frowned and sunk backward, to which Clark responded by rushing in to catch her up by the elbows. Her head tipped toward him and a sob broke loose, shaking her head and saying, "you left me, you left, I begged you not to and..."

He bowed his head toward hers and ran his fingers along the surface of her loose hair with a soft sigh; whatever happened next, he was just _so relieved_ to see her again. "I know, I know, I'm sorry," he said.

She pulled her arms free from his grip and pushed the t-shirt up to his throat hurriedly, exposing his chest and then put her hand where the wound had been, feeling his heart hammering under her palm. There wasn't even a mark, like it never happened.

She frowned and asked, "how-?" but she knew how unlikely it was he had an answer for that, and skipped to the more relevant, more urgent question, "-did you know that you could...?" Could what; she thought, return from the dead? Regenerate tissue, upto and including major organs?

His brow wrinkled at the subtle accusation, slighted by the implication that he might have kept something like that from her. "You know everything about me that I know," he insisted.

Lois could tell she'd bruised him, but she had pain of her own to get through. She reached up and cupped his cheek in her palm, able to picture down to the detail the last moment she'd done that even as his body sagged with relief. She pushed herself up into a kiss, her eyes filling with tears again as she felt him clutch her, her heart wringing out the agony of the last two months. When the kiss ended, she stayed there in his arms, a breath from his chest. “Tell me what you know,” she said.

His fingers traced the backs of her shoulder blades lightly as he answered her question. “I just- woke up. -Underground. It was… warm, like flying up near the sun. I went to the farm...” he frowned softly. “I hadn’t seen mom like that since-” he broke off.

Lois breathed in the strength to say what needed to be said. “Do you need to go back?”

Painfully earnest blue eyes found Lois’. “I need you.” His fingers traveled down her wrist and his face fell at the sight of a bright stone twinkling there on her ring finger. He lifted her hand between them. “It was going to be a surprise.”

She laughed at the size of his dissapointment, wiping a wet cheek with the back of her hand. “Oh yeah, while you were gone, your mother asked me to marry you.”

Clark smiled tentatively, the light coming back to his eyes. He lived for Lois’ laughter, and it made him feel like they might be okay after all. “How presumptuous,” he said, “and what did you say?”

Lois’ eyes went misty, thinking back to the cold bittersweetness of unwrapping that ring in the first place, of the promise it held, the promise that had been broken. She realized that they could have everything she thought she'd lost; if they wanted it still. She slid an arm around his neck. “I said yes.”


End file.
